


Gone

by Linguini



Series: Fandot Creativity Jan 17 [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, or maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/pseuds/Linguini
Summary: The heat from the fire was intense.





	1. Jump/heat

The heat from the fire was intense, but there was nothing he could do, no clever trick he could perform to make everything alright. Not this time. He’d erred badly, and the cost was dear.

If only he hadn’t drunk their whiskey, if only he hadn’t made that bet. If only, if only…

But he had, and they intended for him to pay for it.

If they caught him.

The wheels of the passing train clacked menacingly as he took a flying jump into the empty car. The whistle blew mournfully as the train sped from London and towards freedom.


	2. Seagull/imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His imagination ran away with him.

His imagination ran away with him, every light pole hiding a microphone, every seagull a tiny camera, capturing every move. He swallowed hard and turned away, careful to affect a nonchalance as he made his way through the crowd to the shop on the corner for a cone of chips and a large bit of haddock which he practically inhaled. 

The sun was dipping below the horizon, and snow was predicted for evening. There was no way he could stay out. Finding a shelter for the night, he bedded down uneasily on a rickety cot.

Sleep did not come easily.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were closing in.

_They were closing in. Douglas pounded up the stairs and onto the roof. He could hear their footsteps behind him, but there was nowhere left to run. Only one hope._

_With one last burst of courage, Douglas sprinted across the roof and launched himself into the empty space between the buildings, and as he fell, he prayed. **Please.**_

With a startled gasp, Douglas jerked awake, limbs flailing against the restrictions of the bedding. His heart pounded in his ears, fingers tingling. Only the barest dregs of the dream remained, but it was enough. 

He knew what he had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you hear that, Skip?” Arthur asked. “Something’s there.”

“Did you hear that, Skip?” Arthur asked as they headed out, frowning at the bushes. “Something’s there.”

“There’s nothing there, Arthur,” Martin sighed and tugged his arm. “Let’s go. We’re already late.”

But Arthur was still frowning, trying to see what was on the other side of the fence. “Don’t you think that’s weird, Skip, Douglas being missing and now there’s a sound there?”

“I think your mother is going to kill us already, so come _on_.”

Reluctantly, Arthur went, unknowingly leaving behind the body of their long-missing First Officer, lying in a slowly growing pool of his own blood.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long he’d been there, no one knew.

How long he’d been there, no one knew. But by the time they'd finally found him, shivering in the undergrowth, the blood was seeping through his uniform jacket, leaving sticky rivulets trailing across his knuckles, down the back of his hand, snaking under the cuff of his shirt. 

The ambulance was prompt, the workers efficient, and it was only a mere half an hour before they had him up in surgery, leaving Carolyn to sit in the waiting room, alone but for the pressing weight of concern in her chest and the inescapable awareness of the ticking of her watch.


	6. Chapter 6

Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight...

_Please, Douglas. I’ll never ask any favor ever again._

Thirty-five, thirty-six...

_How dare you. How **bloody** dare you._

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. One, two...

_This is not brilliant. At all._

They are the only ones there, three weightless, bleary forms melding to the unyielding plastic seats. The sky outside is inky blue-black, rain pelting against the windows on day three of their vigil. Not one of them has any desire to move.

In a room down the hall, blood drips in metronomic time, echoing the hesitating ticks of the clock on the wall's second hand.

He breathes.


	7. Matchbox/far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hours before they're allowed to see him again.

It’s hours before they’re allowed to see him again, though only one at a time under very strict parameters. Carolyn is allowed in because she’s listed as his next of kin, and Arthur and Martin because she introduces them as “our sons.” This is a lie Arthur can keep, easily.

He’s bare-chested, a swath of bandages around his middle, lost in a jungle of plastic tubing, tape and gauze. But the worst of it is the small burn wound on his chest, no bigger than a matchbox, shiny with salve--the only vestiges of the controlled electrocution that saved his life.


End file.
